


Choices

by flippednique



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crazy Rich Asians, Ex-Boyfriends, Iwa-chan is MY best man, Kyoutani is the blond sheep of the family BAA BAA, M/M, No he is MY best man, Oikawa likes to eat, Stop exploiting his love of food Hanamaki, We're Gucci, Wedding Planner Oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-23 15:06:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippednique/pseuds/flippednique
Summary: “I’m not telling him.”“But—““You just hired his ex-boyfriend to plan our wedding. They didn’t exactly end amicably.”“Whyexactlydid those two end?”“Who knows.”Oikawa Tooru came to Japan for reasons, he wasn't exactly on the look out for a job.





	1. It's Not A Stalker

_‘Hey, I just got back from the airport and realized you forgot one of your bags in my trunk! I can’t believe we didn’t notice, damn human traffic. It’s the navy blue one about the size of a small box with the white handles. Is there anything in here especially important? I can send it to you via express, or you know, drop it over at your place if you don’t really need it. Don’t overthink while you’re there. Just… just try to breathe. Okay? Don’t hole up in your hotel room the whole week. Check your emails, something important might come up. I’ve got to go now, send me a message when you get to Japan.’_

Oikawa flops onto the hotel’s swanky king sized bed and listens to the soothing voice of his best friend’s voicemail messages. He practically melts into the mattress after a nineteen-hour flight in coach and looks around at all the finery surrounding him with clouded eyes. Everything is in gold and white, there’s absolutely nothing traditional about it. It seems silly, since one of the reasons he’d want to go back to Japan was to see where he’d come from, reconnect with the roots he’d left when his family flew to America when he was eight.

 

The bed’s too big for just one person, but that doesn’t stop Oikawa from curling into a ball around a ridiculously stuffed pillow, tugging the plush comforter over himself and calling out for the lights to dim. In all truth and honesty, this was not a place he’d pick out for himself.

 

_It’s not bad to indulge every once in a while, you know?_

But he hadn’t chosen this at all; it had been a gift.

 

_Let me spoil you._

And he wasn’t one to turn down gifts.

 

Oikawa snaps his fingers so the lights would dim down; the action does something to his heart, makes it twinge in a way that only slightly hurts at the memories he’s bombarded with because of something so simple. He revels in the darkness the late night brought, cut only by beams of moonlight coming through the large windows.

 

It feels like he’s only closed his eyes for a minute and then there’s someone knocking on his door, the sun is out flooding his room with bright light, and there are dry tears on his face he pretends aren’t there.

 

Unfortunately, it’s harder to ignore the knocking on the door. He pulls himself out of bed, fights hard against the heavy pull of silk sheets. A glance at a mirror tells him half of his hair is flattened to the side of his head and his eyes are swollen. Whoever was knocking at the door wouldn’t care either way.

 

Oikawa throws the door open and is surprised to see a room service attendant with a full breakfast cart and a charming smile.  “おはようございます.” She carefully wheels the food into the room and goes about pushing the curtains away to let more of the sunlight in (Oikawa keeps in mind to close those again) and bows after asking if he’d need anything else. Oikawa smiles and thanks her, sends her away without asking the questions going through his sleepy head. He hadn’t been sure that his stay this time came with breakfast. He should have expected it though, after all, places like this usually didn’t spare any expense. There’s enough food for two.  Oikawa groans and falls onto the bed, wincing at the stale feeling of the clothes he’d worn on his flight and had fallen asleep in.

 

A bath is in order before he sinks even deeper into his misery, he’ll feel better when he doesn’t feel like he should throw himself into a hamper.  After a moment of contemplation, Oikawa gets off the bed and proceeds to drag the breakfast cart to the bathroom. He was on vacation; he’d eat and take a bath at the same time if he wanted to. A huge clawed tub greets him, along with an assault of memories of bubble baths and strong arms and wrinkled palms and intertwined fingers.  He powers through another surge of tears prickling the back of his eyes and gets to work drawing a bath.

 

There’s a surplus of bath salts on one of the shelves and he picks one up in random ( _“You’ll love these, they make you so warm you’ll melt”)_ and tosses it into the rapidly rising water.  Oikawa gets rid of his clothes, grabs what he thinks is _mochi_ and shoves it into his mouth as he sinks into the warm water. He kicks at the tap with his foot and shuts the water off before it can overflow. The silence of the empty bathroom greets him and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

 

“I shouldn’t have come here.” He declares after a minute of chewing. He reaches over and grabs something else, it might be a tart, and shoves it into his mouth. “I shwould hab jush shtayed at hwome.”  

 

Oikawa lets his head fall against the edge of the bathtub and swallows his mouthful of food then lets out another sigh, grabs something else and proceeds to put a dent into the food he’d been given. He’s in the middle of choking on a rice ball and grabbing for a glass of what he thinks is watermelon shake when he notices the card on the table.

  

‘ _Hello, Oikawa-san. My name’s Hanamaki Takahiro and I desperately need your services. I’m sorry for contacting you in such an unconventional manner, but I really need your help. You’ve come highly recommended. If you won’t object to a briefing, lunch will be on me. Please hear me out, I’ll be at the restaurant at noon.’_

There’s something akin to a cloud of shock and surprise coming over Oikawa that he almost drops his glass into the bathtub. He almost chokes on his breath all over again, replacing the glass with the card.

 

“Hanamaki Takahiro…” Oikawa doesn’t _think_ it’s a stalker. He sinks lower into the cover of the bubbles a bit self-consciously and looks around himself.

 

He _hopes_ it’s not a stalker.

 

.~.

 

“Hello, hello! Thank you so much for coming, I was hoping I wouldn’t scare you off. I’m about ready to kill a person, cat, or bird, whichever one thinks it’s smart to cross me first.”

 

Oikawa looks up from glancing at one of twenty of the extensively elaborate portfolios that had been sitting on the table he’d been seated at by a server to look at his mystery messenger. There’s a definite jitter in his body, a nervous energy that seems to keep him from sitting still for too long yet he somehow manages as he rests one impossibly long leg over the other. The low lights of the restaurant bounce over the slightly pink-ish tinge of his hair.

 

“I think now’s the best time to tell you I’m a little bit scared.”

 

“Oh, don’t be. I’m harmless. Probably.” The other man reaches over for a handshake. “Hanamaki Takahiro.”

 

“Oikawa Tooru.”

 

“Now that we’ve got out of the way,” Hanamaki signals a server over and waves away the menus they try to give him, looking over at Oikawa. “Is there anything you want? A craving we can sate?”

 

“Do they have something fried?”

 

“Karage?” Hanamaki turns to the server and puts in orders of food for them. He then smiles politely as they take their leave before turning back to Oikawa. “Let’s cut straight to the chase. You’re my only hope, to be quite honest. My first wedding planner, bless her heart for trying, doesn’t know what she’s doing. I don’t blame her since she’s trying to appease both my mother and Issei’s, but with only two weeks to the wedding, I don’t think I can handle any more screw-ups. I need someone who knows how to get things done in the short of time we have. They told me you’re the man to call. Aren’t I just lucky you’re in Japan just right when I need you?”

 

“I’m extremely flattered Hanamaki-san, if not surprised to hear you’ve even heard of me all the way here in Japan.”

 

“Please call me Makki. I’m expecting to spend a lot of time with you and no one’s called me Hanamaki since college. It sounds weird.”

 

“Right, Makki.” Oikawa nods. “Makki, may I be frank? I came here to get away from the world, to… to have some time for myself. I wasn’t planning to take on any jobs for at least another two months. Not to mention I’m booked solid--.”

 

“Oikawa, please.” Hanamaki cuts in just as their food is brought and served. “You’d be doing me a solid favor. I just really need someone I can count on. This wedding is important to me and I know you don’t know me, but I’ll owe you for the rest of my life. Please, please at least hear me out.”

 

Oikawa waits until their serves leaves them with a dozen platters of food before nodding, sitting on the edge of his seat.

 

“Thank you.” Hanamaki picks up his chopsticks. “Eat. If there’s anything else you want just tell me.”

 

“What exactly did the wedding planner screw up?” Oikawa asks as he does as he’s told (the slight demandingness is familiar, he knows better than to not eat when there was food around lest someone thinks it’s best to start literally feeding him). “Is it the lighting? The music? The food? It might help me figure out which things need fixing, narrow down our plans.”

 

“Oh, I already know what needs fixing.”

 

Oikawa reaches for his planner and a pen, focused. He’d thought to bring it even though he wasn’t sure he’d take this job and was glad he did. It’s not like him to turn down jobs.

 

“Absolutely _everything_.” Hanamaki says as he slumps into his seat, his chopsticks in the air, “I think it would be easier if you started from scratch. Scrap everything she had ready because none of it is going to please my parents, or Issei’s. Oh God, I can only imagine the look on Oba-san’s face.”

 

“I see.” Oikawa takes down some notes ( _picky family)_ and gestures to the catalogues. “Are these recommendations, or the old plans, or something?”

 

“These?” Hanamaki pulls one closer to him then promptly drops it. “These are for me, I was doing a bit of work before you got here. Don’t mind them.”

 

“Ah,” Oikawa’s eyebrows pull together in slight confusion and he takes a moment to enjoy his lunch, pausing the interrogation. After a few mouthfuls, he says, “I don’t, um mean to offend you or anything but the wedding is in two weeks. What exactly do you want me to do for you? Do you at least have a style I should follow? Do you have things you want me to avoid?”

 

“It needs to be glam.” Hanamaki answers immediately, then stops and seems to think about it, picking at his rice. “Elegant. Nothing gaudy, because heaven knows everyone will show up bejeweled already. There has to be alcohol at the reception, oh- and the entourage has to dance. Nothing traditional, we’ll have a classic tea ceremony at one point but the wedding will be Western.”

 

“Uh huh, okay. Glam and elegant, booze and dancing.” Oikawa writes that down. “Do we have a head count on the wedding party? Bridesmaids, Groomsmen?”

 

“Oh, no bride here. Issei and I are still fighting on who gets our best friend as his best man. I guess you can put down three guys for each of us just to be safe. All that’s going to change is which side of the aisle they’ll be standing on. _Someone_ will be walking down the aisle, just give me a few more days to convince Issei to do it. ”

 

Oikawa drops a piece of pork back into his bowl, catching only the first part of what Hanamaki was saying. “I’m sorry, rewind. This is a gay wedding?”

 

“Is that going to be a problem?” The look Hanamaki sends him over a spoonful of miso soup manages to send a chill down his spine, says that if _this_ was a problem then they were going to _have_ bigger problems.

 

“No, absolutely _not_ a problem.” Oikawa waves his hand in the air as if it would manage to blow away the rising tension and reaches for his food again. “I’m assuming this wedding is being hosted somewhere that isn’t Japan and allows same-sex marriage.”

 

“Well, yeah.” Hanamaki says like it was obvious all along. “My dad has a plaza ready in Spain. We come from old money so it’s not too much trouble to work things out with the government.”

 

“Right.” Oikawa reaches for the glass of iced tea he’d been served earlier and takes a huge gulp. “I’m sorry. I forgot to ask if we were on a budget here, though that now seems silly of me to ask.”

 

“Nope, no budget at all.” Hanamaki grins toothily at him. “Is that what you’re worried about? Don’t be. Issei’s parents are paying for my net worth, which is a _lot_ , so go crazy. Just, not too crazy. I don’t want anyone popping out of cakes or arriving on a parachute or an airplane.”

 

Oikawa gapes at him, he’s sure it doesn’t look very charming.

 

“Problem?”

 

“Who even are you?”

 

Hanamaki chuckles at him as he reaches over to the catalogues on the table, and opens one to a page displaying a beautiful and extravagant wedding gown. There’s an incredibly familiar logo facing Oikawa too. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of my family name with all the shot-gun weddings you’ve had to deal with.”

 

“Hanamaki Corp.” Oikawa reads out loud then looks away from the dress to him with wide eyes. “As in, the owner of that huge chain of wedding dress boutiques in Shanghai?”

 

“Shanghai, Taipei, Guam… we’re practically everywhere in Asia.” Hanamaki shrugs. “I didn’t think I’d needed to tell you, I’m sorry I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to catch you unaware. I’m just used to it being common knowledge.”

 

“No, I mean. I‘m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I just got back from the States.” Oikawa reminds him then takes a deep breath, putting his chopsticks down, his stomach full. “Wow, soooo… when you said go crazy, you meant it.”

 

“Yes.” Hanamaki nods, glad that Oikawa’s caught on then pulls out a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket, pushing away his own plate. “Also, I was just messing with you. Here’s a list of things we want for the wedding, the theme is pretty simple. The previous wedding planner was working more with what our parents wanted, which is too ostentatious for my fiancé and I. We decided to fire her without our parents’ knowledge and hire _you_ so our wedding turns out somewhat the way we want it.”

 

“I see.” Oikawa nodded and accepted the list, his eyes scanning the little bullet points. For some reason, the handwriting’s a little familiar. Must be the fact that they were written in Romanized letters when Hanamaki was probably used to writing in kanji. He tucks it in between the pages of his planner. “I will guard this with my life.”

 

“You better, if my mother finds out what we’ve done and sees that list, she’ll burn us alive, list first.” Hanamaki then pulls out a leather-covered pad that turns out to be a checkbook; he reaches for Oikawa’s pen without asking and proceeds to scribble several things on it before tearing a page out. “We’ll fly to Madrid the day after tomorrow, this is half of what we’ll owe you for all your help.”

 

Oikawa gingerly accepts the check and almost drops it into some pickled vegetables. “Are you serious?”

 

“Hmm? Well, yeah, we’re not asking you to do something easy. Also, it’s a full-time commitment for at least the next week. You’ll have to be at the reception to make sure everything flows smoothly and we’ve got cash to spare. Might as well reward good service.”

 

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” Oikawa mumbles staring at the check.

 

“Your portfolio speaks for itself.” Hanamaki tells him. “Helping low-budget couples get their dream weddings, people who elope because their families disapprove. I know better than anyone what it feels like to want to get away from responsibilities that are like collars and chains. I think that’s a kindness that needs to be returned. After the wedding, take the money and go on vacation. Or come back to Japan and do whatever it was you were planning to do when you came here before I hired you. Soul searching, right?”

 

Oikawa looks up from the check (he needed to keep this in a god damn safe, that was a _lot_ of zeroes). “What? Oh, yeah.”

 

“You should go on more vacations, you work too hard.”

 

“I’m sorry, who recommended me to you again?”

 

“A friend.” Hanamaki clears his throat. “Take the rest of the day to settle your affairs, I guess. You’ll be flying with us, I’d like to keep you close just in case my mom thinks it’ll be wise to hound you.”

 

“I have the feeling that I don’t get a choice in this.”

 

“You don’t.” Hanamaki says simply, standing and reaching over for another handshake. “I look forward to working with you Oikawa. See you at the airport. Pack light, we’ll get you anything you might need.”

 

Oikawa answers with a smile and a strong grip on Hanamaki’s hand. “I take it you have to leave.”

 

“Yeah, I have to meet up with Issei. You’ll meet him at some point, he doesn’t really want to be involved with all the wedding planning so he might try avoiding you but he runs this branch of his family’s resorts so he’ll bump into you at some point, if not then at the airport.”

 

“Wait, he _owns_ this resort?”

 

“Technically his dad does but he’s set to inherit it all.” Hanamaki pulls out his phone, frowns at it a little and looks up at Oikawa with a sour face. “Oka-san just found out I fired her wedding planner. Whatever you do, don’t leave this hotel until we get to Madrid where I can keep an eye on you.”

 

Oikawa laughs, and sobers when Hanamaki sends him a look that clearly says he’s not joking before watching Hanamaki leave. Once the man of the hour disappeared out the door, he slumps in his seat, staring at the catalogues of wedding dresses. Then after a thought, he pulls out his phone. He might have an idea on who recommended him.

 

“ _Do you have any idea what time it is?”_

“Early.” Oikawa chuckles into the phone and smiles at the server that’s started to clear the table. “I just got done with a briefing. Surprisingly enough, since I didn’t tell anyone I was coming to Japan or that I’ve lifted my hiatus on jobs.”

 

“ _You took the job though, right? Tell me you didn’t turn down the opportunity to work with one of the CRA.”_

“CRA?”

 

“ _Crazy Rich Asians_ , _come on Kawa, keep up.”_

“I’ve never been interested in all that drama you seem to find yourself in, Kou-chan. You should know me better by now. We’ve been friends for years.”

 

“ _Yes, and as your friend, I didn’t want you going back to Japan wallowing like some forty-eight year old widow. This way, you’re trip won’t be a waste. I mean, I know you’d rather have not gone at all, but now you get a job and you’re focused on something you love doing.”_

“That age is highly specific.” Oikawa says by way of diverting Sugawara’s points.

 

“ _Yes, when I’m forty-eight, Daichi will have left me for not being young and skinny anymore but I’ll find a way to keep him.”_

There’s the sound of sheets rustling and Oikawa can only imagine Sugawara’s husband reacting instinctively to a jab in his honor even in sleep.

 

“You and I both know Daichi married you for more than your looks, or your money.”

 

 _“Yeah.”_ Sugawara agrees, voice soft and warm. “ _But he stays because I fund his obsession with ridiculously expensive cars.”_

_“_ Sure he does.” Oikawa leans back into his seat and lets his head fall back against the back of it. “Also, don’t lie, you’ll be spritely and beautiful by the time you’re eighty what with your vampire genes.”

 

“ _Asian genes.”_ Sugawara corrects with a laugh. “ _And you have them too.”_

 

A server sets several dishes on the table and Oikawa looks at her with surprise. “Oh no, there must be a mistake. I didn’t order anything else.”

 

“These were sent by Mattsukawa-sama in case you were going to spend some more at the restaurant, Oikawa-san.” She bows slightly and smiles at him. “He insists you try the green tea cakes, they’re our chef’s specialty. We will send up any food you’d like, just give the restaurant a call.”

 

Oikawa stares at the food full of table, his grip on his phone going deathly storng. “Kou-chan, they’re trying to feed me to death.”

 

Sugawara’s answering laugh is sleepy. “ _They’re rich, Kawa. They don’t know the meaning of the word enough. They think this will impress you. And don’t pretend it’s not, you love food.”_

Oikawa laughs under his breath and shakes his head. “Yeah, I remember all about you crazy rich people. Oh, and don’t separate yourself from them, Mister-I-grew-up-owning-seventeen-restaurants-before-I-could-even-cook.”

 

_“I may be rich, but I sure as heck am not crazy.”_

“That’s debatable.”

 

“ _Go eat your tea cakes, Kawa. Mattsukawa’s got one of my cousins working in that restaurant of his. They’re good. I’m going back to bed.”_

“Night.” Oikawa says in lieu of a goodbye, ending the call. He then reaches over and shoves a tea cake into his mouth and shakes his head. “That’s really good.”

 

He reaches the plate over to one of the passing servers. “Do you want one?”

 

.~.

 

_> > You two better have a good reason why your mothers are suddenly hounding me about a sudden change of wedding plans, specifically a change in wedding planners. I’m wrapping up the business I have in Manila, I’ll be back in time for the flight to Madrid. Please tell me you guys have things under control, or I’ll be neither of your best men. As for my opinion, I think Issei should walk down the aisle because Hiro will probably run down it. Flip a coin or something and make up your damn minds. _

Hanamaki threw his arm into a fist pump and pressed a smacking kiss on Matsukawa’s cheek. “Hajime seems to agree with me. You’re walking down the aisle.”

 

There’s a lack of response from his sleepy looking fiancé and Hanamaki wraps his arms around Matsukawa’s front, resting their heads together. “What’s wrong, Issei? I can walk down the aisle if you don’t want to. I was just teasing.”

 

“That’s not it, although we’ll get back to that later.” Matsukawa says. “Your wedding planner, he looks kinda familiar, don’t you think?”

 

“Not really.” Hanamaki starts to sway them both from side to side, making a thoughtful noise. “Oikawa isn’t exactly a common name. I think I’d know if we’ve met him or his family before.”

 

“What’s his first name again?”

 

“To- something.”

 

“Takahiro, you wrote a check out for him just this afternoon.”

 

“I’m thinking! I’m thinking!” Hanamaki insists swatting at his chest. “Oikawa Tooru.”

 

“Tooru.” Matuskawa echoes. “Now where have I heard _that_ before?”

 

Hanamaki shrugs his shoulders, not particularly bothered until it hits him like a bag of bricks. “Oh no.”

 

“I’m right then?” Matuskawa pats the pale arms looped around his front. “Damn babe, Hajime’s going to want to be _my_ best man now.”

 

“I didn’t know.” Hanamaki groans, burying his face into Matsukawa’s dark hair. “He always called him some stupid nickname like Trashykawa, or- or Stupidkawa.”

 

Matsukawa presses a kiss to Hanamaki’s cheek. “Good luck telling him.”

 

“Isseiiiiiiiiii,” Hanamaki drawled.

 

“No.”

 

“But you love me, right?”

 

“I’m not telling him.”

 

“But—“

 

“You just hired his ex-boyfriend to plan our wedding. They didn’t exactly end amicably.”

 

“ _Why_ exactly did those two end?”

 

“Who knows.”


	2. It's The Melancholy Shrug

 

' _Darling, I’ve asked Jenkins to prepare your luggage and refuel the plane you said you wanted to bring to Madrid. I trust you’ve been keeping your pilot’s license up to date, not that I don’t trust Sazaki-san to ferry you through the skies, mind. It’s just an extra precaution. I know you’ve been awfully busy Hajime, but I truly don’t think you wouldn’t mind going through the pains of contacting me when you’ve got the chance. I worry about you and your Otou-san does as well. Spare your dear old Okaa-san a call or a message when you can, won’t you?’_

Iwaizumi sighed and took a moment to brace himself against his seat and lowered his driving speed to the bare minimum. “Alexa, call Okaa-san.”

 

“ _Calling_ Oak-Ah-Sun.”

 

“No Alexa, call Okaa-san.”

 

“ _Calling_ Oak-Ah-Sun.”

 

“God dammit, I’ll do it myself.” Iwaizumi reached a hand out and went through his favorite contacts, jabbing a finger at the call button. It rings twice before someone on the other line picks up. “Hello Okaa-san.”

 

“ _Hajime_ , _do my ears deceive me or is the universe finally smiling at me as my one and only son finds the time to squeeze his mother into his busy schedule and call?”_

Iwaizumi winces as he makes a turn on the road; the dramatics were not at all unexpected. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, Okaa-san.”

 

“ _I understand. Any mother would be proud when their son takes their duty seriously above all else.”_

“Just doing my job.”

 

“ _And you’re doing wonderfully.”_ His mother promised. “ _How was the business trip to Manila? Did you get to see the beaches?”_

_“_ It was a _business_ trip, Okaa-san, right in the middle of the city. The most I saw was the inside of buildings, my hotel room, and surprisingly enough the dashboard of my company car. Traffic there was absolutely horrible, I don’t think I’ve ever been so sick of backlights my whole life.”

 

“ _Isn’t it everywhere? People are always in a hurry. I think traffic gives them the time to think of things. Although I do personally hate getting stuck when I have places to be, obviously.”_ Okaa-san chuckles. “ _Hopefully the airport landing spaces in Madrid will be a lot more spacious.”_

“My plane’s tinier than commercial ones, it’s why we’re taking it and not Kentarou’s jet. I’m sure the runways will manage to fit us in.”

 

“ _If not just give Mr. Carriedo a call, I’m sure they’ll do something about it. Are you driving right now Hajime?”_

Iwaizumi thinks twice about telling the truth. “Nope.”

 

“ _You are a horrible liar.”_

“I’m driving as slow as possible, Okaa-san. I’m almost at the airport.” Iwaizumi catches sight of a plane flying overhead and grins as he sure as heck can recognize those pinstripes on the wings anywhere. “I’m going so slow my cousins are already there and one’s coming from Taiwan.”

 

“ _You boys and your penchant for trouble. There will be no racing while you wait for the rest of your company. Do you hear me, Hajime? Promise me you’ll keep yourself safe. You know how worried my heart can get.”_

_“_ Of course, Okaa-san. No racing.” Iwaizumi answers in all honesty. “And you shouldn’t worry so much, with the wedding happening, I don’t think people will take it well if we have to rush you into the hospital again instead of attending the ceremonies.”

 

“ _Well, that depends. Are you going to run off with some Asian-American office worker without care for the consequences?”_

Iwaizumi sucks in a deep breath and his grip on the steering wheel goes tight. “Semi is English, Okaa-san.”

 

“ _And such a respectable boy he is.”_ His mother says lovingly. “ _I’m glad you decided to go and meet him, Hajime. Your father likes him too.”_

“With the way you were pestering me to meet him, I was bound to give in.” _I bet you’re just both glad it’s someone you finally approve of this time_ he thinks, but doesn’t say.

“ _Yes! It makes me more confident that you’re not going to go off jet setting at the drop of a hat! I remember when you were in university and I’d get a call about you breaking your leg in the Safari! Or getting lost in the Arctic Ocean!”_

“I don’t do that anymore.” Iwaizumi promises with gruffness he wishes he could hide better, and prays he could end this conversation before it got back to some things he’s tried so desperately to forget. “Okaa-san, I need to go.”

 

His mother takes a moment to answer, “ _Don’t tell me that it still affects you **that** badly, Hajime.”_

Iwaizumi smacked his head against his headrest and sighed. “It’s not like I’m holding onto things, Okaa-san. I _loved_ him. I thought- I thought he was the one.”

 

 _“ **He** **left** **you**_ , _Hajime. I told you he wasn’t good for you, I told you that you deserved better. It was very obvious from the start that he was not what you **needed** and he proved me right, he left without even saying goodbye. I swear to the gods darling, there is nothing worse than seeing your child unhappy. I need you to trust me when I tell you that someone doesn’t belong in your life. You are my only son and I’m only looking after you. You understand that, don’t you?”_

“I do.” Iwaizumi agrees half-heartedly, just wanting to get the conversation over with. He glances at his rearview mirror at the shine of lights behind him and smiled weakly at the honks that greet him. He presses on his own horn and makes his way into the runway and parks someway off to the side. “I’m at the airport now, Okaa-san.”

 

_“I’m glad you got there safe. **Call** me when you get to Madrid.” _

“I promise.” Iwaizumi says and hangs up. And he _always_ keeps his promises.

 

_I’ll love you forever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever._

_You’re just saying that right now, sap._

_They’re more than words you know, they’re a promise._

Iwaizumi’s kept even _that_ one, as stupid as it seems.

 

It’s not like him to hold onto the past, but it’s not like it’s been a decade or a millennia since things went south. It’s only been a year. Twelve months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred sixty-five days. Eight thousand seven hundred sixty hours. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes. Yuuuuuuuup, _that_ was how you measured a year.

 

Yesterday had been their second year anniversary. Or would have been, if they were still together.

 

Iwaizumi kills the quiet purr of his Maserati and takes a moment in the driver’s seat, reaching over to the glove box to stare at the unassuming velvet box sitting where he’d left it all along. He’d thought he’d have everything planned.

 

_‘I just need to get him alone. Everybody’s swarming around us like sharks going in for the kill and it’s freaking him out, I think. I’m not sure. He hides things honestly all too well. I want to do this though, I want to do it right. He’s meeting Okaa-san before dinner, that will give me enough time to prep everything. There’ll be slow music, there’ll be stars. It’ll be perfect.’_

He reaches for the velvet box and gingerly lifts the top and stares at the white band, simple but valuable with the inscription inside.

**_To infinity and beyond._ **

 

“We would have been perfect.” Iwaizumi mutters and closes his eyes for a second and lets himself think back to this very same time one year ago. Big brown eyes framed by long dark lashes, flushed cheeks, bouncy brown hair and beautiful, pouty lips, the whole look charming, his entire being oozing charisma. Then there’s a laugh that makes him feel warm, like he’s sitting right beside sunshine.

 

It makes his heart do stupid things, pretends it doesn’t know how to do its job, stuttering over what should have been steady beats.

 

_Iwa-chan, I love you too._

There’s a knock on his window that startles him, snapping the lid closed on the velvet box and shoving it into his suit jacket pocket is a knee-jerk reaction as he tries to calm his beating heart. He lowers the window in an effort to unscramble his nerves. “Jesus!”

 

The long lanky limbs of one of his dearest cousins unlocks the door from the inside and throws it open. “Aww, Hajime you’d think I just caught you plotting murder.”

 

“Now let’s not fool ourselves here. That’s something _you_ would do.” Iwaizumi lets out a breath as he’s wrenched into a bone-crushing hug. “It’s good to see you Tetsuro.”

 

“It’s been too long.” His taller cousin smiles at him in the only way Kuroo manages to, it’s the middle of a smirk and teasing grin, his dark hair spiked up every which way. “I see you’ve been working out.”

 

“Can’t afford to get left behind what with you guys going through training plans like buffets.” Iwaizumi laughs and squeezes the muscled shoulder under his hand. “Seriously, am I in trouble of losing my title of ultimate arm-wrestling champion?”

 

“Feeling threatened by me, big brother?” Kuroo huffs and moves to his own car to grab his things as Iwaizumi retrieves his hand-carry sized suitcase from the trunk.

 

“Nah, I could take your skinny ass any day.”

 

“How _uncouth_!” Kuroo says scandalized, dramatically pointing a finger at Iwaizumi. “How would Baba-san feel if she heard you cursing like that? It would break her heart!”

 

“Leave my mother out of this Tetsuro.”

 

“Roger, roger.” Kuroo chirps as he snaps his fingers and locks his car doors then follows Iwaizumi with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m assuming your plane’s parked somewhere around here?”

 

“Okaa-san said Jenkins took care of it so it should be at its usual spot.”

 

“Ah, yes.” Kuroo says with a severe nod of his head, his hands tucked into his pockets. “How is our good man, Jenkins? Still blond?”

 

“Still _traumatized_ about the time you launched him into the pool.”

 

“Hey, I’m not saying he should have gotten out of the way because I _did_ give him a ten second warning but,” Kuroo sent Iwaizumi a look. “He should have _gotten out of the way.”_

Iwaizumi shakes his head and smiles at one of the airport staff waiting on their arrival. Several ladies reach for his bag and he’s learned better than to stop people from doing their jobs, and so easily relinquishes his things, trusting them completely.

 

Kuroo winks at the one that takes his and is greeted by several high-pitched giggles.

 

“Absolutely shameless.”

 

“Hey, we can’t all be happily dating the love-of-our-mother’s-lives. How is Semi, by the way? Still an amazing listener? You’d think the son of an actress would be more of a conversation partner. He’s so dull it’s like talking to a rock. Is he coming to the wedding?”

 

“I don’t know yet.” Iwaizumi shrugs not at all offended by Kuroo’s musings. His cousin has always had a grudge for people who didn’t like to engage in conversations, a reason why he and Kyoutani butt heads all the time.

 

“Uh oh.”

 

“What uh oh?”

 

“That _shrug_.” Kuroo points at him, aghast. “You’re melancholy!”

 

Iwaizumi stares at him like he’s grown two heads. “How can you tell that from the way I _shrug_?”

 

“Actually, it was mostly the fact that you were sitting in your car staring at a ring for five minutes that told me you were sad, but hey, the shrug adds more to my assumptions.”

 

Iwaizumi flinches and shoves his hands in his back pockets, fighting the urge to reach for said velvet box in his suit jacket. “I was just thinking.”

 

“You were _reminiscing_.” Kuroo corrects him. “Why didn’t you ever go after your pretty boy?”

 

“Don’t call him that.”

 

“You’re not answering the question.” Kuroo says and it’s serious, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows pulled together. “You think you’re so good at hiding how you feel, but I’ve known you since we were in diapers. You miss him.”

 

Iwaizumi stares at him, unimpressed. “What do you get out of making me admit to this?”

 

“Clarity? Peace of mind?” Kuroo asks with a careless wave of his hand. “The thought that you can at least get this off of your chest? The love of your life abandons you after spending a couple of days with your family. No goodbyes, no explanations, just plain gone poof! I mean, if that doesn’t hurt like a hot poker getting shoved down your throat, then I don’t—“

 

“Tetsuro, just- just stop. Okay? I don’t want to think about it anymore.” Iwaizumi says close to pleading. “That thing you saw in the car was a moment of weakness. It’s not going to happen again. And you’re right; you’re jumping to assumptions and conclusions of your own.”

 

“I’ve jumped to conclusions, have I?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So what brought about that moment of weakness, couz?” Kuroo challenges.

 

Iwaizumi huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I was just thinking of the future. That ring’s for Semi.”

 

“ _Seriously_?” Kuroo’s hair seems to twitch in his surprise. “You expect me to believe that you were just thinking of proposing to Semi Eita?”

 

“Well, yeah.” Iwaizumi wishes he could take it all back. “Semi’s a respectable guy and my parents like him. He’s accomplished and he’s easy to get along with. When we’re together we have a good time. I don’t see why I’m not allowed to have thoughts like that about him.”

 

Kuroo lets out a whistle. “Wow, well, you’re right. I _did_ jump to conclusions.”

 

“See-“

 

“I thought my cousin was level-headed enough to realize that he should _not_ be proposing to someone he’s only been dating for several months, _especially_ after he’s just gotten out of a serious relationship that had him fucking _heartbroken_ —“

 

“I was _not--.”_

“You were in sweatpants and pajama tops for a full _month_ and you were eating straight out of the ice cream tub. There were empty cartons littered around the family home- the _family home!_ ” Kuroo snaps at him testily with a squint in his glare. “You were _heartbroken_. Capital H-E-A-R-T--”

 

“I know how to spell heartbroken, okay Tetsuro? Thank you.” Iwaizumi says with a roll of his eyes, fine manners ingrained into him by years of personal tutors and the flat end of their grandfather’s cane. “But seriously. I’m fine. It’s been a year, a _full year_. I’m even in a relationship.”

 

“A relationship where you’re absolutely miserable.”

 

“I’m….” Iwaizumi has _always_ been an absolutely terrible liar, especially when it was to his cousins. “I’m not _unhappy_.”

 

Kuroo makes a gesture with his hands as if to say **SEE!**

Iwaizumi shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. “Can we just, just drop this? Takahiro and Issei are going to get here any minute and I don’t want to discuss my tragic love life when they do. They still have to figure out who gets me as their best man and who walks down the aisle.”

 

“What?” Kuroo says startled by the subject change. Then he seems to think about it. “Issei definitely.”

 

“Right? There’s just something about him that makes me want to see him walk down the aisle.”

 

“Hiro would speed walk down that thing like he was on fire and it would just ruin the whole thing. I feel like Issei would just calmly… float. Like a graceful pretty butterfly. Plus, have you seen his waist? He’s so tiny. Baba-san would shove him into one their glam dresses, just you wait and see.”

 

“That’s exactly what I said. I think.”

 

“Great minds think alike.” Kuroo says with a bright cheery grin that Iwaizumi mirrors for a second before the former seems to deflate like a kicked puppy (an imagery so odd on someone usually so cat-like). “I’m sorry I keep trying to push you, Haji. I just- I just want you to be happy.”

 

Iwaizumi clasps his shoulder and squeezes and says again, “I’m not _un_ happy.”

 

Kuroo decides to drop the subject just like Iwaizumi asked, although it was clear by the look on his face that he was tired of Iwaizumi lying to everyone (but he’d tackle that another day).

 

An attendant who had been standing several feet away hurries to their side now that their conversation was seemingly over and hands them a champagne glass each. “Your cart is this way, masters.”

 

“Thank you.” Iwaizumi gulps half of his in one go; Kuroo laughing as he slings an arm over his shoulders and they follow the attendant and their little cart makes its way through the runway to where Iwaizumi’s plane is parked.

 

“She’s still an absolute beauty.” Kuroo says with an appreciative whistle and the cousins bump champagne glasses in an impromptu toast.

 

“I still think Amora is prettier.”

 

Kuroo and Iwaizumi turn to greet their younger cousin and Kyoutani barely escapes before he’s being pulled first into Iwaizumi’s arms, and then Kuroo’s, into bone crushing hugs.

 

“You’d marry that jet of yours if you could.” Kuroo says teasingly but at the same time, it sounded quite fond.

 

Iwaizumi chuckles, understanding how he felt, and reaches a hand out to ruffle Kyoutani’s short buzzed hair. “Still sticking to the blond, I see.”

 

“Such a rebel.” Kuroo eyes the additions of some very intricate shavings to the side of his head. “You should see our family photos, everybody is black, black, **_black_ , **and then there’s you.”

 

Iwaizumi is frowning as he tries to remember what the last family photo looked like. It had been taken at their grandmother’s birthday party. “Huh, you’re right.”

 

Kyoutani scowls at them and accepts the champagne glass being handed to him and waits for his cousins to refill theirs before engaging in a small toast. “Dye your hair another color if it bothers you so much.”

 

“I happen to think this color suits me.” Kuroo says, fluffing the sides of his head in an obnoxious manner. “You’re the… blond sheep of the family, so to speak.”

 

“How’s business?” Kyoutani asks gruffly attempting to divert the attention off of him. “Sue any corporations lately?”

 

“No, not yet.” Kuroo sighs, rubbing the back of his neck like it’s suddenly bothered him. “I’ve got an upcoming case on behalf of this newly rising company though.”

 

Kyoutani knocks back his champagne. “What are you worried about?”

 

”I’m on defense.”

 

Iwaizumi’s brows pull together. “That’s strange, you’re usually on prosecution. Who’s the client?”

 

“Some old friend of my dad’s.” Kuroo sighs and proceeds to drape himself over his cousins like a limp rag. “This wedding is going to be my short break before I throw myself into the world of laws and objections. I need to read up on computer jargon, don’t want to come off as a complete idiot in front of the judge, jury, and the members of Japanese and Chinese society.”

 

“Is the client a fucking robot? And Chinese society, that’s a huge market.” Kyoutani grumbles trying to shake his older cousin off of him.

 

“IT company.” Kuroo clarifies smirking at Kyoutani’s futile attempts. “Although calling him a robot is partly accurate. I’m working with his son because it’s his tech that’s on the line and I heard he barely strings together two words in one sentence. Maybe he _is_ a robot.”

 

“Just because someone knows to appreciate silence doesn’t make them a robot. I mean, can you blame him? He has to work with codes. Those things barely make sense to an untrained individual and I don’t think any sane human can do that and handle a conversation at the same time. It’d be like asking you to work with finances like I do, Kuroo and you _hate_ numbers.” Iwaizumi points out just as Kyoutani succeeds in shoving the half of Kuroo off of him.

 

“Ouch, Kentarou you’ve gotten stronger.” Kuroo says rubbing at his arm, brushing off Iwaizumi’s lecture.

 

The eldest cousin smirks and raises his eyebrows. “Strong enough to beat me?”

 

“I bet I could.” Kyoutani returns.

 

“We’ve got a long flight to Madrid, we’ll settle it on the plane.” Iwaizumi bops him on the back of the head and leads them up the mobile staircase. “Where the heck are Issei and Hiro? They should be here by now.”

 

“They’ll get here.” Kuroo says making himself at home and plopping into one of the barcaloungers with a happy sigh. “I missed this plane. You know we should have more reunions between us cousins. How long has it been since we last saw Tobio and that shrimp of his?”

 

“It's not like we have a lot of free time.” Kyoutani settles on one of the barcaloungers beside him and patiently waits for one of the attendants to serve him his usual whiskey.

 

Iwaizumi is doing a customary check up on his plane, walking over to the cockpit so he could speak to Sazaki-san.

 

“It’s always great to see you, Hajime-sama.” The forty-year old pilot says beaming. He gestures to the young man beside him, although young was a bit of un understatement, he and Hajime were probably the same age. “My apprentice, Taki.”

 

“Pleasure to meet you, Hajime-sama.”

 

“Nice to meet you too.” Iwaizumi bows back. “Are you guys all set? I’m glad Otou-san could spare you for this flight, Sazaki-san.”

 

“I will be in charge of his flight from Madrid to Boston after the wedding, Hajime-sama. I will be on standby during the wedding.”

 

“I see. How long a flight are we looking at here now?”

 

“Assuming the skies are clear to Madrid,” Sazaki glances at Taki who nods, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “We’ll be there in twelve hours, give or take. Could make it even in eleven and a half.”

 

“We're not really in a hurry.” Iwaizumi assures him. They engage in small talk for a bit more. Sazaki-san had been Iwaizumi’s father’s pilot and the man had also gone out of his way to keep the Iwaizumi family safe on every trip. Iwaizumi remembers family vacations as a child where Sazaki-san always smiled at him whenever he invaded the cockpit, sitting on the lap of his co-pilot wearing one of their officiate caps.

 

He was almost like a good uncle and Iwaizumi missed seeing him more frequently. They were in the middle of discussing Iwaizumi’s latest pilot’s license renewal where he flew over international waters just for kicks (since he’s never lost his touch) when there was a loud banging on the cockpit’s door.

 

“Guess who’s walking down the aisle!” Hanamaki sends him a beaming grin, his pink hair longer than usual and falling over his eyes. It brings out the gold in them, sparkling under the bright cockpit lights.

 

“Please tell me it’s going to be Issei.”

 

“Nope! Sorry to disappoint, but it’s me.” Hanamaki says cheerily and all but throws himself at Iwaizumi for a brief hug and then moves so he’s speaking to Sazaki-san to ask him how he was.

 

Iwaizumi leaned back and watched contentedly, Hanamaki was an old family friend, been there for every birthday and even almost every holiday. He was glad that he would finally become an official member of the family once he married Issei although Matsukawa Takahiro sounded weird.

 

Said cousin showed up with his head poking at the edge of the doorway. “Yo, Hajime.”

 

“Issei.” Iwaizumi pulls him in for a hug, happy to see him. “Can’t believe there’s only two weeks to go.”

 

“Yeah, and there’s still so much shit needed to get done.”

 

“What even happened there? Why the sudden change of plans? I heard you _won’t_ be walking down the aisle.”

 

“You sound so disappointed.”

 

Iwaizumi shrugs, “It’s a darn right shame.”

 

“It’s for a good cause!” Hanamaki pipes up and there’s something nervous about the energy around him.

 

Iwaizumi turns to him, expectant, not really noticing the jitteriness.

 

Hanamaki proceeds to walk past the cockpit until he’s standing behind Matsukawa.

 

“Why are you hiding behind Issei?”

 

“So you won’t kill me when he tells you.”

 

“Tell me what?” Iwaizumi asks.

 

“You’re _my_ best man, by the way.” Matsukawa tells him off handedly.

 

“Wait, wait. Hiro’s walking down the aisle _and_ doesn’t get me as his best man.” Iwaizumi raises a hand and stares at his pink-haired friend. “What did you do?”

 

Hanamaki smiles at him, his nerves well and truly obvious by now with the slight tremble in his lips. “Issei will tell you in just one minute, I swear. But uh, before he does, you have to promise me you won’t get mad.”

 

Iwaizumi tenses and delivers a vicious glare. “I am _not_ wearing a fucking dress as your best man. I’ll disown you both myself, fight me.”

 

“What? No.” Hanamaki pauses. “Wait, now that you’ve mentioned it I’d have the perfect dress for you--.”

 

“Takahiro’s hired a new wedding planner and his name is Oikawa Tooru.”

 

Iwaizumi blinks.

 

“Tooru?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Surely not… _that_ Tooru.”

 

There’s the sound of glass shattering somewhere in the cabin.

 

**_“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Please don’t tell me that was some hundred year old heirloom!”_ **

 

Iwaizumi blinks again.

 

Hanamaki visibly shrinks under his stare then proceeds to burry his face into his fiance’s shoulder.

 

Matsukawa nods gravely. “Yes, **_that_** Tooru.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *VASE BREAKING NOISES* 
> 
> KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE-! 
> 
> Thank you for the amazing reception of the first chapter, guys! I'm trying to respond to all the comments but my internet is very bad at the moment, I'm very, very grateful for all the feedback!! 
> 
> I'm so sorry guys, I mean't to update yesterday (Wednesday) so it could be a weekly-update thing but I forgot it was Wednesday and didn't get to upload, please don't hate me. 
> 
> There are 7 cousins in the CRA family and they've all got black hair, except for the blond sheep of the family of course. We've met Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Mattuskawa, Kyoutani. Who wants to try and guess who the other three are?


	3. It's Gucci

‘ _Hi? If you have the time to ruin my life by sending me into the arms of the man I once loved when I’m in the point of my life where I’m finally ready to consider re-opening my heart and my mind to the memories of what we had and what we were and what we will never be, you god damn better have the time to pick up your fling-flanging phone! Or one of them! You have like, what? Six?! Who even needs six phones if you can’t find the time to pick up a call?! I don’t care which celebrity’s decided to pop up at FLY HIGH, I need someone to freak out on and I only have you!—‘_ sharp inhale, lowkey panting due to the long ass rant. It resumes. ‘ _I mean, it’s not like you **know** everything that’s happened because I **told** you everything. And you **obviously** don’t love your best friend since you just went and fed him to the freaking sharks! Crazy Rich Asian sharks! What did I ever do to you, huh, Kou-chan? Why are you hurting me this way? Know what? Don’t bother calling me once you get this. Our friendship is **over**! Do you hear me? It’s OVER. O-V-E-R. OVER. BYE! SAYONARA AND ALL THAT JAZZ! ’_

**Beep**.

 

_‘Just in case you didn’t get it the first time **, it’s OVER!** If you call me, I’m not answering!’_

****

**Beep.**

**‘** _I mean, you could have at least warned me, right? That’s not too much to ask, is it?’_

**Beep.**

‘ _Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t know this was going to happen. You were the one who kept saying ‘But the trip’s already paid for Kawa! Just go ahead and enjoy yourself, it would be a total waste’. You KNOW I can’t stand wasting money!’_

**Beep.**

‘ _Why are you still NOT answering my messages? Do you honestly have nothing to say for yourself? No excuses? Am I unworthy of an explanation? Do I truly mean that little to you?!’_

****

**Beep.**

‘ _Kou-chan… I’m scared, what do I do?’_

Oikawa sighed and slumped against the bathroom wall he was leaning on, his head hitting it with a loud thump he was sure could shake the plane out of the sky if they were already flying. He’d gotten one look, _one look_ , and in all honesty it was all he ever really needed.

 

Iwaizumi Hajime still looked as gorgeous as the day Oikawa had left him. Minus the usually loving grin Hajime sent him (a grin he once believed was privy to just him), there was nothing at all different with Iwaizumi’s thick eyebrows or the way the light made the hazel in his eyes shine. The man was wearing a suit, per usual, but that did not mean Oikawa couldn’t see the muscles defined underneath the pressed cloth, carefully maintained, earned through hard work and tears, and sweat.

 

_Come on, Iwa-chan! Five more! I’m sure your Mama didn’t raise a quitter, just five more push ups!_

_It’s easy for you to talk. You don’t have a hundred fifty-pound weight sitting on your back._

_Excuse you! I am less than a hundred and fifty-pounds. Last I checked, I’m only a hundred and ten._

_That doesn’t make you light- oi, Shitykawa don’t make yourself heavier!_

_Just five more and I’ll kiss you! Woah! Don’t go too fast!_

 

Oikawa feels the beginnings of a sad smile pull on the edges of his lips and he closes his eyes as if he could close off the memory as well. Iwaizumi had gone through those five push up’s and turned over so fast he’d thrown Oikawa off his back and onto the plush exercise mat he’d been working out on.

 

“ _No way.”_

He’d even sounded exactly the same too, rough and croaky like he couldn’t be bothered to talk much and was recovering from not using his throat for too long.

 

The dumbfounded look he’d given Oikawa when he’d emerged from the cockpit was so painfully and bone-achingly familiar it sent Oikawa’s traitorous little heart into what must have been a powerful cancan (or a dance choreographed by a KPOP group, man, those were _intense_ ). Not to mention he’s sure it had just stopped beating when he’d broken that vase, Iwaizumi’s mere appearance managed to restart it just like _that_. Defibrillators? Not necessary! Just one Iwaizumi Hajime please!

 

All things considered, there might have been a more dignified way of handling the situation, he could have been an adult and faced Iwaizumi. After all, he was here on a job. This was business, not pleasure. It’s not like he flew all the way from America in search of the man he had not business seeing on his down time. This was all purely coincidence.

 

But this was Oikawa Tooru, and he was in a sad space, an odd place, and he’d excused himself and ran into the only closed off area possible in a damn plane, the bathroom.

 

And here he was still now, miserable and embarrassed. How was he even going to go out and face them all knowing that Iwaizumi was there? These people must know who he was, right? Unless… Unless Iwaizumi didn't think he was worth enough of a story to share with them.

 

No.

 

Oikawa peeled himself away from the wall and looked into the bathroom mirror. It was only big enough to show his face and what he saw scared him. His reflection showed him a boy, hurt and broken. What he saw was his inner turmoil on display for the world to see.

 

“You will _not_ do this, Oikawa Tooru.” He told himself, voice trembling in righteous anger as he opened the tap and splashed some refreshingly cool water on his face. “You will _not_ let him think that he can just treat you like that and get away with it. Don’t let him see how badly he hurt you. You owe it to yourself.”

 

Little by little, he thinks he can see the cogs that made up himself slowly turning and churning. For a moment, he pretends not to see that there was something missing, a part of him that wasn’t there anymore (hasn’t been since he’d decided to give it away). He reaches up to smooth back his bangs that had deflated in his wall-hugging moment and fluffs them back to their normal tufts.

 

Satisfied, he turns the water off and nods at his reflection. _This_ he liked better.

 

“You’re gonna go out there, Oikawa Tooru, and damn well do what you’re best at. Be a god damn professional.”

 

Satisfied that he’s managed to put himself together, Oikawa gave his reflection one last look, one last nod of approval and made for the door. A person waiting outside waiting surprises him and he was clearly just as shocked at the sudden reveal.

 

“Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack!” He’s tall, incredibly tall, but Oikawa thinks they’re pretty close in height. He can’t exactly tell since the other is hunched over, one hand patting his chest in a quick and fast manner as if it would help in calming his frazzled heart, his eyes wide like a startled cat.

 

“Sorry.” Oikawa says determined to keep himself together and not show an inkling of weakness. He moves around the other man as politely as he could and made his way through the few seats, keeping his eyes on the only person he actually knows still in the room.

 

Hanamaki winces as he draws close and offers him a flute of champagne. “Alcohol?”

 

“Do you have anything stronger?” Oikawa jokes but takes it and takes a sip anyways (missing the way one of the stewardess’ had pushed a button and a fully stocked bar with hard liquor worth thousands of dollars popped up from behind the island counter, they make it disappear upon Oikawa’s acceptance of the fizzy bubbly drink with slightly disappointed sighs. They’ve wanted to use the bar).

 

He sits when Hanamaki gestures and settles into as relaxed a position as he can, crossing one leg over the other as he all but melted into the buttery leather of the plane’s barcaloungers. “Is everything alright, Makki?”

 

Hanamaki’s face does something, his nose scrunching like he’s being forced to eat his vegetables, it was highly endearing, as he slumped into the seat across from Oikawa, graceful even as he looked the part of a scolded child. “Oikawa… I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you. I didn’t know you and Hajime dated. I mean, I _did_ know but it completely slipped my mind. I was too focused on the wedding, the preparations, and managing to get in contact with you without alerting my mother that I didn’t even think to connect you with each other. I mean, we never even met when you guys were together.”

 

Oikawa pursed his lips. So Iwaizumi _did_ tell them about him, just not in a way that made him particularly memorable. Okay, he could work with that.

 

The wedding planner reaches over and lays a hand on Hanamaki’s knee in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “Makki, I’m not going to make this weird.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Me and Iwa-ch-, um, I mean, Iwaizumi-san.” Oikawa doubles back over the customary nickname with an easy smile. “I’m here to plan your wedding, not to mingle with the party. I’ll do my job, which is to take away your worries, not add to them.”

 

“I really am sorry, Oikawa.” Hanamaki tells him, his eyebrows drawn together sounding especially genuine. “I know you guys didn’t end on good terms.”

 

“Good terms, bad terms, what matters is that they ended, right? No more terms to worry about.” Oikawa carelessly bats a hand and adds a laugh at the end that he hopes is believable. By the way Hanamaki relaxes into his seat, his shoulders loosening as he nursed his champagne flute it was working. “Makki, do you know what kids mean these days when they say ‘ _it’s Gucci’?”_

“Gucci? Like the brand?” Hanamaki tilts his head to the side. “Do you want me to get you something Gucci to apologize? I can do that. Akaashi’s boyfriend is in the fashion industry, I’m pretty sure we can pull some strings in time for the wedding. What is it that you want? Bags? Shoes? Does Gucci cater menswear? Or if you’re into women’s fashion, I can get down with that. I don’t judge.”

 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant at all.” Oikawa mirrors the head tilt although he’s starting to get used to this extravagance (he shouldn’t though, he _knows_ he shouldn’t. A simple life was a happy life). “If you check the Urban Dictionary, Gucci is slang that translates to cool. So this situation we have going on? It’s Gucci, Makki.”

 

“Gucci.” Hanamaki echoes. “The, the thing where you’re planning your ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s wedding is- it’s… Gucci.”

 

Oikawa leans forward and clinks their glasses together glad that they’re apparently on the same page just as what seems to be their head stewardess informs them to buckle up for take off. “It’s Gucci.”

 

Hanamaki looks just the slightest bit mystified but doesn’t broach the subject further, his attention shifting quickly. Matsukawa (who Oikawa met at the resort) stopped by for a couple of seconds to tell his fiancé he would be in the cabin room, possibly keeping Iwaizumi out of Oikawa’s way.

 

“How’d he take it?” Hanamaki asks, his fingers curling into the sleeves of Matsukawa’s jacket.

 

Matsukawa glances at Oikawa for the slightest bit and the latter makes himself scarce as much as he can whilst trapped in an airplane by staring out the open windows, admiring the Tokyo runway. He and Hanamaki have a short and quiet conversation before the former went away.

 

Oikawa waits until they’re in the air to unbuckle his seat belt and pull out his planners, thankful for the small tables in between the barcaloungers. He’d spent his free day at the resort yesterday to arrange the things on Hanamaki’s list; so far he’s gotten most things in order. He’d called people he could call, arranged for deliveries, reservations, and rechecked RSVPs to the invitations. The absolute works. It was amazing how much power there was in just a surname.

 

He’s going through some of the finer details when he stumbles on something he actually needs input from his client. “Makki?”

 

The man in question looks up from a new wedding dress portfolio and some sketches he was drawing. “Hmm?”

 

“You never got back to me about how many groomsmen you’ll have.” Oikawa taps at his planner with a teal colored pen, his tongue poking out his lips. “And who’s walking down the aisle?”

 

“Oh,” Hanamaki puts down his work things and rests his chin his palm in thought. “I’m walking down the aisle.”

 

“Alright.” Oikawa makes a note of that. “You’ll be going formal with suits, right? No yukatas or haoris in the equation.”

 

“No, although I would love to make one glam enough for a wedding, I don’t want to encourage the idea of either Issei and I showing up in a dress.” Hanamaki leans back in his seat. “My mom made our suits and they’re nearly done, just getting some beading out of the way. They’ll be ready in time for the wedding. As for the groomsmen, they’ll mostly be Issei’s cousins, whom I don’t mind since they’re practically all my friends anyways. We’re doing the whole not-allowed-to-see-before-the-wedding thing because it’s bad luck too though, so you might want to assign someone with that particular task seeing as you’ll have your hands full on the day of the wedding itself.”

 

“Noted.” Oikawa writes that down as well. “You said three groomsmen for you and three for Mattsun. Can I get their names?”

 

Hanamaki makes a thoughtful noise then looks over his shoulder. “Oi! Who wants to be Issei’s groomsmen?”

 

Oikawa startles just a little bit as the other two men on the plane turn to them, eyebrows raised.

 

“Do we get to plan the bachelor party of the groom we walk for?” The one Oikawa had bumped into at the bathroom asked with his hand honestly raised in the air like this was primary school.

 

Hanamaki shrugged. “That’s your decision, not mine. All Issei and I are going to do is wait for you guys to go crazy. Just, no strippers! And no drugs.”

 

“Sweet and simple. I’ll be yours, let Kentarou be wherever Hajime is. He’ll be less trouble that way, always so good for big brother Haji.”

 

“I know how to behave.” The other man says with a low growl. “I don’t need someone looking after me.”

 

“Now, now blond sheep. Go _baa baa_.”

 

“Ever hear of wolves in sheep’s clothing?”

 

“Yeah but you’re not a wolf. You’re our blond sheep!”

 

Oikawa turns back to Hanamaki expectantly as the two banter in what must be of normal fashion between them. The sharp and blunt barbs toward one another kind of remind him of Iwai—stop right there.

 

The groom, across from him, rolls his eyes at them and sighs. “Put down Kuroo Tetsuro for me then Iwaizumi Hajime and Kyoutani Kentarou for Issei. And then… Kageyama Tobio as Issei’s last groomsman.”

 

Oikawa carefully pens in the names, his eyebrows drawing together as the last name sounds kind of familiar. He pushes the thought aside. “And your last two?”

 

“Akaashi Keiji and Kiyoko Shimizu.”

 

“Shimizu.” Oikawa pauses. “That’s a girl’s name.”

 

“Yes,” Hanamaki chuckles. “And she’s one of Issei’s cousins, the only girl, in fact. Their Obaa-san would kill us if she weren’t in the wedding. She’s the favorite.”

 

“I guess it makes sense since you’ll be walking down the aisle.” Oikawa cleans up his notes and nods, satisfied. “Will they be wearing their own suits?”

 

“My mother has _all_ their measurements in case they’d need an outfit for an event or gathering so I think she’s got that covered. I’ll call her to confirm when we land but I’d tell you to rest easy. Kiyoko will be in a dress, I think. One with a train no doubt, it will look good when she walks down the aisle.” Hanamaki says distractedly. “Wow, can’t believe we finally chose who’s walking for who.”

 

“Was it a terribly hard decision? Did you spend many nights tossing and turning thinking about it?” Oikawa asked good-naturedly as he pushed around planners, looking over things that needed his attention.

 

“Oh like you wouldn’t believe.” Hanamaki says like he’s carrying the weight of a thousand worlds. He sends a covert glance over his shoulder at Kuroo and Kyoutani and once satisfied that they were occupied, turned to Oikawa with a smile that looked a little sad. “They’re Issei’s cousins. Never know when one might end up hating me because I chose them.”

 

Oikawa freezes in place, startled by the confession. He takes a moment to think of what he wants to say, not wanting to come off as offensive or uncaring. “I thought you all got along.”

 

“Oh, yeah, they’re all really cool. No, what was it you said? They’re _Gucci_.” Hanamaki says absentmindedly. “It’s just a passing thought. Since I grew up with them, I’ve never really thought about making friends of my own. I mean, we all have contacts, who doesn’t in the Asian network, right? But friends, Issei and Hajime would never leave me alone. I’d always end up hanging out with them so I didn’t make other friends. Even when we made it to university, we always seemed to find our ways back to each other.”

 

“I’m sure they all see you as part of the family.” Oikawa says in hopes of lightening the mood. “And no one is going to hate you for picking them as their groomsmen.”

 

“I hope so.” Hanamaki chuckles. “Well, now that Issei and I are getting married they won’t have a choice. I really will be part of the family… something tells me once upon a time, _you_ would have been too.”

 

Oikawa almost drops his pen at the unexpected turn of the conversation and his smile freezes into something painful. “Ah, that was another lifetime ago, Makki. I would never fit in with you guys.”

 

“You fit in just fine, right now.” Hanamaki tells him seriously. “Look, Oikawa. Tooru, if I can call you Tooru, I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I know what it’s like to be under the scrutiny of their Obaa-san. I had to live with it for years, all twenty-seven of my life, before Issei and I decided to just go with destiny and get hitched. I want you to know you can talk to me.”

 

“There’s honestly nothing to talk about, Makki.” Oikawa declares with a snap of his planner, leather ticking against leather, nerves slightly frayed.

 

“What happened when you met Obaa-san last year? Issei and I were late to the celebration and we ended up missing the opportunity to meet you.” Hanamaki pressed. “I just want to understand, because from what Hajime told us-.”

 

“Makki!” Oikawa says, cutting him off with a tight smile. “Instead of dwelling on the past, which I find incredibly useless and intrusive by the way, why don’t you tell me more about your groomsmen that way I’ll know how to help them plan your bachelor parties?”

 

Hanamaki frowns at him; on another day it might have translated into more of a glare than a frown, but otherwise drops the subject realizing he’s overstepped his boundaries. “Who do you want to start with? What do you want to know?”

 

“Whatever you think I need to know.” Oikawa prompts.

 

“You already know about Issei. Let’s start with the Princess.” Hanamaki chuckles, pulling out his phone and flashing it at Oikawa with a zoomed in photo of who must be, “Kiyoko Shimizu. She’s in the film industry, which you’ll find really weird when you meet her because it’s not the first thing you’ll think of. You’ve probably seen some of the movies she’s directed and produced like _Now That You’re Here, Between Bookshelves and Paperbacks,_ and some popular Netflix adapted series.”

 

“I’ve seen those.” Oikawa admits, nodding. “They’re good.”

 

“Of course they are. She spends like seventeen billion for a single episode. Doesn’t know when to stop, that one. Not that she has a _reason_ to stop.” Hanamaki swipes at his phone, moving through the rest of the picture until he stops on another zoomed in person. “This is Akaashi Keiji. He’s a musician who graduated from Julliard and usually works in the orchestras of Broadway productions. He can play any instrument you can possibly think of, a child prodigy and an absolute genius. We were thinking of getting him to play for the wedding but Issei didn’t want it to turn into a which-cousin-is-better kind of deal.”

 

“You all have the same eyes.” Oikawa notes quietly, taking in the beautiful face and sharp structures. He’d spent some early mornings tracing that almond-shape with the lightest touch his finger, praying he won’t wake his bedmate. He swallows the memory and clears his throat. “You’re all insanely pretty.”

 

“You mean _they_ are pretty.” Hanamaki corrects, moving on. “This one’s Kageyama Tobio. He’s in sports, partially medicine without being an actual doctor although he could go that way if he wanted to since his parents are in the field; he’s focused on working on physical therapy. He’s the youngest cousin which somewhat earns him favoritism points but Obaa-san isn’t too happy with his latest relationship so he might be out of favor during the wedding.”

 

“Yikes.” Oikawa murmured then snapped his fingers. “Oh my god! That’s why his name was familiar! We’ve met.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, I used to play volleyball when I was younger but I kind of busted my knee and had to stop. Last year it was hurting and Iwa-chan- I mean, Iwaizumi, brought me to see him.” Oikawa shook his head at the incredibly blue, blue eyes staring at him from the photo. “He never mentioned he was a cousin. Although now that I know, the resemblance is freaking uncanny! They even stare at you blankly the same way.”

 

“It must have slipped his mind. Hajime was probably incredibly worried if he thought it was necessary to take you to Tobio. ” Hanamaki says. “Well, at least it’s a familiar face in a sea of strangers.”

 

Oikawa chews on his bottom lip for a second as he realized that it would not be, in fact, a sea of strangers at the wedding. The chances of him bumping into Iwaizumi’s mother were sky high. He did _not_ want that particular reunion happening. He’d avoid risking seeing her if he could.

 

“Tetsuro over there you’ve already met.” Hanamaki points over his shoulder, putting his phone away. “He is the only heir of the Kuroo&Kuroo Law Firm. His parents are both Attorneys and naturally he’s stepped in to continue the family business. You’ll find that an incredibly consistent pattern between the cousins. He’s an established lawyer in his own right, graduating with honors at Cambridge. He’s on sabbatical right now thanks to the wedding.”

 

Oikawa leaned back in his seat, staring at Kuroo with mildly incredulous scrutiny. There was no way he could imagine that mess of hair in a courtroom, he could barely take it seriously right now as the man was making cooing noises at what appeared to be cat videos. Insanely  _large_ jungle cats. Did he own those?? 

 

“There’s Kentarou.” Ah, the blond sheep. “He’s a licensed pilot who works on aircraft development and maintenance. His family runs the company and crew that improve commercially and privately owned aircrafts and he’s usually the test pilot for every single one, prototypes included. It’s a risky job, but he enjoys it and can guarantee customer safety and satisfaction. The only plane he isn’t allowed to touch is this one we’re flying right here.”

 

“Why is that?” Oikawa wonders.

 

Hanamaki smiles at him, though it edges on a smirk. “Because, the last cousin, owns this plane and Hajime will kill before anyone but him touches it. Don’t think I need to explain what that one does. You probably know all about it.”

 

“Right.” Oikawa says testily ignoring the teasing look Hanamaki is sending him. “Thanks for the debriefing, Makki.”

 

“Welcome to the network, Oikawa Tooru.” Hanamaki sighs and waves at a passing stewardess to refill their champagne glasses. “Don’t get swept up in it.”

 

Oikawa tips his head as he’s handed back his second drink and they share a toast. “Oh, I won’t. I’m sure everybody agrees that I am not _worthy_ to be part of your network. I’ll just get this wedding over and done with and go back to my happy life in New York.”

 

“Not planning to stick around?” Hanamaki swirls his flute around, eyes lingering on Oikawa like a snake. “You could gain a lot of clients from this one event alone. I’m not one to brag, and I don’t actually really care, but they’re viewing this as the event of the century. It’s like two _kingdoms_ are getting married.”

 

Oikawa chokes on his mouthful of champagne and coughs it away with a laugh. “W-What? Oh. Sure. The kingdom of dresses merges with the kingdom of resorts.”

 

“Stranger things have happened in the network, let me tell you that.” Hanamaki says right back, his shoulders quaking with laughter. “And news always, always travels fast. Faster than it might take you hopping on a plane and flying off to New York.”

 

“I’m not what you’d exactly call news worthy.” Oikawa says putting his flute down and leaning back in his seat not noticing the way Hanamaki looked like he wanted to argue about what he’d just said. “About the bachelor parties. How much of that am I going to have to get involved in?”

 

“I have absolutely no clue.” Hanamaki shakes his head. “It’s better if you talk with the groomsmen about that.”

 

Oikawa presses his lips together but nods in understanding.

 

Right… so that means he _has_ to talk to Iwaizumi at some point.

 

He picks up his glass and knocks back what’s left of his champagne and signals at a stewardess for another. He’s gonna need a _lot_ more alcohol.

 

“Tooru, are you okay?”

 

“I’m Gucci.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play the "How many chapters can I write before the main characters finally talk to each other?" game! The answer is apparently three. I'm so sorry guys, I just can't seem to get them to talk to each other unless it's absolutely dire (and apparently planning bachelor parties counts as pressing since Oikawa takes his job seriously). 
> 
> I'm sifting through what to do for their bachelor parties, I was hoping to get your opinions? Do you think they should have a separate one, or does Makki/Mattsun's group crash the other's party? I know it's gonna be outrageous but I'd love to hear how you'd go about it :D 
> 
> Thank you again for the amazing feedback and reception! I'm very grateful OTL We Gucci?
> 
> It's currently 1:36AM Wednesday for me and I decided to post it now just in case I forget again (I'm still very sorry about last week).

**Author's Note:**

> Who wants to know what happened between Iwa-chan and Kawa over here? ( O w O )


End file.
